


North Pole Limited

by Exdraghunt



Category: Starlight Express, polar express
Genre: Christmas fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: “Hello, Rusty.” The steamer spoke, voice gentle and light in contrast to their size. “I hear you’re having a bad night.”“Starlight Express?” Rusty gasped, certain that his guest could be none other than the ethereal and kind god himself.“No,” The stranger chuckled, “I am known to most as the Polar Express."





	North Pole Limited

_The Polar Express is a magical train, capable of visiting the entire globe in a single night. It goes where there are no rails, and snow follows in its wake even where it is too warm for snow to fall. The engine can turn the tightest of corners and climb the steepest of grades, all while pulling a train of the finest passenger varnish the world has ever seen. It is said that the Polar Express runs one day a year, Christmas Eve, and that very lucky rolling stock might even have a chance to glimpse it. Most, though, only see the flurries of snow and the shining of magical rails that quickly vanish once the express is gone._

 

 

                When Rusty was just a young engine, he had always attempted to stay up on Christmas Eve to try and catch a glimpse of the fabled Polar Express as it passed on its way to the North Pole. Of course, he usually fell asleep before midnight came and had never managed to see the train. He’d never even heard it, the roaring steam whistle Poppa always said would echo off the mountains when the train passed through.

                 He wasn’t a trainlet anymore, though, and knew full well what the Christmas season actually brought. The increased passenger traffic wasn’t all bad. It used to mean Rusty was pressed into passenger service to pick up extra trips, now he was the lead passenger engine and it was Greaseball who was serving as backup.

                 No, the main problem with this time of year was the snow. It piled up on the tracks, causing delays and slippery rails, and no matter how often the area engines plowed it was always back again. With it came the freezing cold weather, forcing Rusty to consume incredible amounts of coal to keep his fire burning hot. Even big diesels like Greaseball struggled in the cold, and Electra had been put completely out of commission when a very fine snow had gotten sucked into his cooling ports and melted on his circuitry, shorting the electric engine out.

                 Despite these troubles, however, all the rolling stock of the AL&W railway were still eagerly gearing up for the coming holiday. The trains usually considered human holidays a passing interest, but Christmas was different. It meant special trains, and decorations, and most importantly a good reason to party. Christmas Day was the one day of the year that no trains ran, so the party usually got rolling after the last train Christmas Eve and didn’t end until the last person passed out.

                 Gift giving, except sometimes in the case of mated couples, hadn’t really caught on amongst trainfolk as most of them wanted for little in the way of material things. Candies and high-grade oil, however, were exceedingly popular. As were decorations.

                 The passenger engines and coaches had all been outfitted with festive lights strung around their exteriors to bring cheer to the passengers. These were a slight inconvenience when transformed, but most bore it with good humor for the sake of the holidays. This was Rusty’s first year getting his own decorations, since he was now officially a passenger engine, and looking at the multi-colored lights strung up and down his arms and legs never failed to make him happy. Especially since he now matched Pearl.

                 Rusty did have to be mindful to move very carefully, however, as picking bits of shattered ceramic bulbs out of his elbow joints was absolutely no fun at all.

                 Over in the freight yard, the freight cars and engines concentrated on decorating their surroundings since they didn’t get festooned themselves. The Gang had been sent out for a Christmas tree and, after a spirited wrestling match over which tree would look most impressive in the yard, had brought back a whopping 60ft fir that towered over everyone. It took Wrench in her crane from to settle a giant star atop it, and the rest of the components to string all the lights. (Sans Joule, who got helplessly knotted up in the light strands and had to be carried off by Krupp to be untangled.)

                 Every shed, warehouse, and station on the railway got at least a simple string of lights around their eaves, spreading out their happy light against the darkest nights of the year. All of the engines got wreaths for the doors of their sheds (Rusty almost burst something in happiness as he hung his, for it was the first year he’d had a shed of his own to hang anything on), and there was a giant red bow for every light pole and cantenary support on the railroad.

                 Less than a week to go before Christmas found Rusty happily reporting for his morning passenger train. He whistled a cheery tune as he skated to the station in the pre-dawn gloom, the lights draped about his body casting spots of multi-colored light across the gravel ballast as he passed.

                 The coaches were all waiting for him, arranged into their usual order and now just milling about underneath the large awning of the Victoria station to keep out of the gently falling snow.

                Rusty’s whistle brought a halt to their idle chatter, Pearl breaking away from the group to greet her boyfriend.

                 “Good morning, Pearl!” Rusty happily met the observation car with a hug, the two being very careful not to smash their Christmas lights between their bodies. (Christmas put a _slight_ damper on intimacy). “Are you ready to go?”

                 “Always!” Pearl gave him a kiss on the cheek before moving back to her position at the end of the line. “Even though Buffy won’t stop complaining about how cold it is.”

                 “That’s because it’s fucking freezing!” Came the protest from further down the train.

                 Rusty laughed and made his way to the head of the train. The coach’s normal outfits had been augmented with fuzzy muffs and scarves for the season, but many of them still easily got cold without an engine to provide them with heat. They didn’t have a constant, roaring internal fire like a steamer did.

                 Changing shape, Rusty relaxed into his engine form as the human crews busied themselves securing couplings and hooking up hoses. A valve was opened, allowing steam to hiss from Rusty’s boiler down the line to the coaches for their heating systems, then doors were opened so that passengers could start boarding.

                 Most of the passengers that regularly rode the AL&W trains were familiar ones to the rolling stock, for theirs was a small line that served small towns. Around Christmas, though, they suddenly got to see new faces as people travelled to see relatives and friends for the holidays. People on the platform ran to meet disembarking passengers, tears in their eyes as they greeted their child or parent or spouse, and the mood aboard the coaches was always one of good cheer. When the snows came, train was one of the only ways to reach the isolated towns, for all too often the roads became impassable. Business was good.

                 Good enough, in fact, that even Greaseball was let off his punishment duty to pull extra passenger trains to keep up with the traffic. To Rusty’s surprise, the big diesel hadn’t even bothered to gloat about it and wore his decoration of Christmas lights with good grace. (Rusty was a little envious, in fact, of how easily Greaseball wore his strings of lights. The steamer felt more like a child who’d gotten tangled up in strings than a graceful racer.)

                 That morning, Greaseball greeted Rusty with a simple nod of his head and a gruff, “Mornin’, steam train,” with nary a sneer in sight. Rusty never thought he’d see the day. The yard Christmas party might even occur without anyone coming to blows this year.  (Well, except for the Gang, but really wrestling matches were just to be expected whenever more than one of the diesel brothers was in a room at the same time)

                 As Rusty pulled out of the station, the snow continued to swirl down from the heavy, grey clouds that filled the sky. More snow was forecast for that night, and every night until Christmas. Rusty made a mental note to stop and get a plow blade affixed to his front in case he came upon a drift on the tracks. They were certainly in for a white Christmas this year.

 

 

 

                It came to a peak the day before the holiday, when a snowstorm dropped several feet on the rails and brought all traffic to a halt. Rusty was given instructions to go back to the little used shed on the outskirts of the yard where the hulking rotary snowplow was kept. The enormous plow, a grumpy steam powered unit named Blades, saw use by the railroad maybe once a decade and Rusty had been very young the last time he was out.

                “Uh, Mr. Blades?” Rusty said nervously as he poked his head into the shed. “Are you ready to go?”

                 “Don’t linger in the door, boy, come in!”

                 The young steamer crept in and shut the door behind him, keeping the icy air out of the warm shed. Blades was seated on the floor of the shed, scooping coal into his tender from a pile in the corner. His fire was burning bright, steam hissing from under the cutting blades that draped over his shoulders like a cape.

                 “So they’ve called me in again, huh?” Blades gave a raspy chuckle. “Better have gotten an actual snow this time, last time they woke me up barely a foot had fallen.” The old plow looked Rusty up and down. “Least they sent a proper steamer to me. Is McCoy still around?”

                 “Yeah, Poppa is still around. He’s just in the shop having a boiler clean out.” Normally, the larger steamer was the one to take the plow out when the snow got heavy. But without Poppa, the job fell to Rusty. “The rails are impassable right now, there’s been so much snow.”

                 “I’ll be the judge of that.” Blades hefted his bulk to his wheels and rolled out of the shed. A light snow was falling, though clouds on the horizon heralded more serious weather on the way. The snowplow sniffed disdainfully. “This ain’t shit. The snow storm of ’23 was worse than this, and I had that cleared in a day.”

                 “I hope you’re right.” Rusty muttered as he followed the plow over to a clear piece of track and changed shape.

 

                Coupled behind the larger form of Blades, the two moved slowly out of the yard. Though Rusty had initially been hesitant over doing this job, it was actually turning out to be kind of fun. Blades chewed through the snowbanks like they were nothing, rotary blades sucking in the white powder and spitting it all over the trackside with a terrific grinding noise. The walls of snow grew higher, and progress slower, but still Blades forged forwards.

                 Rusty’s wheels slipped on the wet rails, and he dropped sand to get more traction. Still, it was slow going. Rusty wasn’t the strongest engine, it took all his power to keep Blades’ cutter-head pressed into the wall of snow.

                 The day wore on, hours of plowing broken only by trips to re-fill with coal and water so that they could continue. The storm clouds had continued their march until they covered the sky, blocking out the sun and turning the world gray from its absence. Snow began to fall again, slowly at first but coming quicker as the wind began to pick up.

                 Rusty was just considering that maybe it was time to turn around and go back when he heard a rumble from the mountains towering over head. Any engine who worked in the mountains knew it, the sound of tons and tons of snow barreling down the slopes. Avalanche.

                 There wasn’t time to do anything before the snow hit, washing over Rusty and Blades and quickly burying them both. Everything went dark.

 

 

               

 

                It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when Rusty became conscious again. He could hear humans talking, and the deep rumble of a diesel engine somewhere nearby. Clearly, a crew had arrived to dig them out.

                 Gradually, Rusty was able to make out words and sentences from the chatter around him. One voice stood out clearly above the rest.

                 “You’re lucky you didn’t get swept clean off the track, shrimp.” As the strongest engine in the yard, Greaseball had been sent to come and retrieve the hapless steamer. Transforming, the diesel coupled up behind Rusty and revved his powerful engine. Slowly, Rusty and Blades were pulled out of the snowbank they had been embedded in and towed back to the yard for repair.

                 It was fortunate that Blades and Rusty hadn’t been derailed, most of the damage to the two was cosmetic. Blades was back working again the next day, out with Gook and Tank to finish clearing the line. Rusty, however, didn’t recover quite so quickly. Though his boiler hadn’t frozen overnight, the cold had done damage to his lines and systems. Christmas Eve found Rusty sick in bed, barely able to move without coughing. Pearl sat at his bedside, giving him sips of water and rubbing his back as the steamer shuddered.

                 “Uuugh, I feel awful.” Rusty moaned as he lay back in his berth. Pillows and blankets had been dug up so that he could relax semi-reclined, a position that put less stress on his boiler, but every part of him was sore. As though, well, as though half a mountain had dropped on him.

                 “I’m sorry, Rusty.” Pearl handed him some powdered coal and a glass of water, which Rusty took gratefully. “Do you think you can make it to the yard Christmas Party?”

                 “Is that tonight?” Rusty very much wanted to attend the annual AL &W rolling stock Christmas Party, especially now that he had an actual girlfriend to spend it with (and didn’t have to worry about the local diesel gang white-washing his face in the snow afterwards anymore).

                 With a groan, Rusty made a game attempt at sitting up fully and pulling the covers back, but a sharp pain in his middle stopped him in his tracks. Closing his eyes, Rusty relaxed back into his cushions. “I don’t think I can get up. I’m sorry, Pearl.”

                 “It’s okay, Rusty. It’s not your fault.” Pearl fussed with the blanket and tucked it back in around him again. “Do you want me to stay here with you?”

                 As much as Rusty didn’t want to spend the night sick in bed alone, he also didn’t want to keep Pearl away from the raging party that was surely just starting in the coach shed. It wasn’t fair to make her miss it too.

                 “No. You go. Have extra fun for me.” Rusty managed a weak smile before having to cough again. “I think maybe I’ll just try to sleep.”

                 “Okay, Rusty.” Pearl leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead, then stood and straightened out her skirt. “I’ll come back and check on you later, I promise. I hope you feel better!”

                 And with that, Pearl skated out of the shed and Rusty was left alone.

 

                 Shifting restlessly, Rusty did his best to try and sleep. The wind was picking up outside, whistling through the cracks in the old shed that Rusty called his own. Shivering, the sick steamer tugged his blanket up around his neck and tried to will his internal fire to ward off the cold outside. What a way to be spending Christmas.

                 Unfortunately for Rusty, it soon became apparent that he was too miserable to find rest. He’d been looking forward to spending the holiday with Pearl for months, and now here he was. Sick, unable to even get out of bed, and all alone.

                 Rusty was not the kind of engine to cry, he had grown out of the habit long ago when he discovered that crying did not bring comfort; only more bullying and teasing. But still, he sniffled as he thought of how quickly his holiday had turned from great to terrible. He didn’t even have any decorations inside his shed, now that his own lights had been removed after the avalanche. There was just the wooden ceiling, blackened from years of soot, and rickety walls to see. Some World Champion he was. Rusty had no doubt that if had been Greaseball who had gotten sick, in the years when he was reigning champion, the whole party would’ve moved into his shed just to keep him company. Or, knowing Greaseball, he’d have just forced himself upright anyway no matter how sick he was. The diesel was stubborn like that.

                 Rusty, on the other hand, wasn’t incredibly stubborn, nor was he willful enough to over-ride the messages of pain and exhaustion his body was sending him. Feeling sorry for himself, Rusty finally fell into a light slumber.

 

 

 

                 Some time later, after hours of unpleasant fever-dreams and half-waking, Rusty opened his eyes to the sound of a steam whistle roaring in the distance. More than that, it was an _unfamiliar_ steam whistle. The sound of Poppa’s whistle was nearly as familiar as his own to the young steamer, so the fact that he was hearing something unknown was significant. Who in the world could be visiting them? Rusty didn’t know of any other steam engines in the whole tri-county area.

                 The blaring of the whistle came again, deep throated and hoarse, sounding almost as though it were right outside the shed. The wooden walls of the old structure shook with the thunder of an approaching train, and Rusty looked out of the single small window in confusion. The mainline was nowhere near enough to his shed for the walls to vibrate so much.

                 Then came a great hiss of steam and air brakes, followed by a bright, searching light shining in through the window. Rusty squinted and held a hand over his eyes to try and block out the glare. Something was moving outside his shed. Something large.

                 Suddenly, the door to the shed flew open with a bang. Snow flurries swept in, along with an enormous black figure. The intruder was perhaps the largest steam engine Rusty had ever seen in his life. Their helmet seemed to scrape the ceiling of the shed, and the driving wheels on their arms were as large as a man.

                 Despite their size, the giant steamer moved carefully and softly over to the berth, their black paint glistening in the dim light.

                “Uh, h-hi?” Rusty stared up at the stranger, trying to find their face past the glare of the headlight on their helmet.

                 “Hello, Rusty.” The steamer spoke, voice gentle and light in contrast to their size. “I hear you’re having a bad night.”

                 “Starlight Express?” Rusty gasped, certain that his guest could be none other than the ethereal and kind god himself.

                 “No,” The stranger chuckled, “I am known to most as the Polar Express. You, however, may call me Noel.”

                 “The Polar Express? You mean you’re _real_?!” Rusty exclaimed in surprise. “I mean, I always heard stories when I was a trainlet but you’re actually real? Not just a hallucination because I’m sick?”

                 “I am quite real.” Noel laughed again, the sound like chiming bells. “You are not hallucinating. I was summoned by the feeling of someone losing belief. What has you so sad this Christmas?”

                 “I got buried in an avalanche yesterday. Everyone else is at a party, so I’m sick and alone.” Rusty lapsed into a coughing fit, eyes watering from the force of his coughs.

                 “Well, would you like to come with me for the night?” Noel held out a massive hand.

                 “I’m sick.” Rusty rasped, voice hoarse as he stared at the being in front of him. “I can’t even get out of bed.”

                 “I can take care of that.” Below the rim of their racing helmet, Noel’s painted lips curved into a kind smile.

                 After another moment of hesitation, Rusty slowly lifted an arm and placed his hand in Noel’s. It was suddenly like a weight had lifted from his body, and Rusty allowed himself to be effortlessly pulled off the bed and to his wheels.

                 “What-“ Rusty bent his arms and flexed his fingers, finding that all of the soreness and pain in his lines had melted away. Like magic.

                 “Come on,” Noel tugged him towards the door, ducking to make it under the doorframe. “I have a long way to go tonight, and I get the feeling I’m going to need the World Racing Champion to help me out.”

                 “You need me?” Rusty asked incredulously, following Noel out the door and into the snow outside. The chill was almost pleasant, a light sting to his warm plating as opposed to the biting cold it had been earlier.

                 “I have a long train to pull, and still many miles to go.” Noel gestured towards a string of cars sitting with lights lit on the tracks just outside the shed. “Will you help me?”

                 Rusty’s jaw dropped when he saw the varnish sitting in front of him. The coaches were all immaculate in their matching teal paint with red trim, a dusting of snow across their roofs and the small, round faces of children in all the glowing windows. The words “POLAR EXPRESS” were written across their sideboards in neat, white lettering, like a proper passenger train. Surely, they didn’t need a small engine with a rust infection leading them.

                 “Come along.” Noel stepped onto the tracks in front of their train, then nodded towards the space in front of them. “I need a lead engine.”

                 Hesitating, Rusty stared at the tracks in front of the train. He could feel his throat becoming tight again now that Noel had let go of his hand, the freezing cold clawing at his plating. Finally, Rusty squared his shoulders and stepped onto the tracks. The Starlight Express wouldn’t have come down to him if he wasn’t worth something.

                 Strong hands came forward to grip his couplers, then the pair of engines transformed. Two men came down from the train to secure the couplings and hook up air and steam hoses, then they were ready to go. Noel’s whistle split the quiet air with a roar, and Rusty’s drivers began to turn in response. The two gained speed, pulling the coaches along behind, until they were practically flying through the mountains. They were, in fact, going much faster than Rusty knew to be safe, but the train hugged the mountain curves without any trouble at all. As they flew past the spot where Rusty had been buried in the avalanche the day previous, Rusty scanned the mountains for signs of another. With the noise and vibration of a passing train, it was all too easy to trigger a mountain slide. But, thank fortune, the white blanket draped over the mountain tops seemed content to stay put.

                 Still picking up speed, the train roared over a wooden trestle and suddenly Rusty found himself on unfamiliar rails. Had they really passed through AL&W territory so quickly?

                 It seemed as though they were going faster than Rusty had ever been before, yet it didn’t strain him at all. If he really looked, the scenery going by didn’t appear to be moving any faster than normal. But the moment Rusty stopped concentrating, or looked away, it was like they had made leaps of hundreds of miles in mere seconds. It was a dizzying effect.

                 Then, with a roaring whistle and the squeal of brakes, the entire great train came to a halt. They were sitting on a city street, tall, old brownstones all around with lights curled around their balconies and trees in every window. All was silent, until the door to one building creaked open and a small, pajama’d figure crept out. The child looked at the train in wonder, not questioning how or why it had appeared in the middle of the street, before climbing aboard at the prompting of the conductor.

                 Brake lines sighed, steam hissed, and soon the train was rolling again. With every stop, they seemed to be wending further and further north. Until there were no more cities, no more towns, nothing but endless tundra. Rusty had never seen a sight so beautiful.

                 Green lights danced in the sky, which was so full of stars Rusty knew he could never manage to count them all. He located the North Star, the light of the Starlight Express shining down on him, and continued on with renewed determination. They seemed to be approaching their final destination, if the increasing impossible nature of the railroad was any indication. Rusty climbed grades and flew down slopes that were incapable of existing, yet there they were anyway.

                 Great herds of caribou trotted alongside the tracks, tossing their antlers and baying at the passing train. Their furry, brown backs seemed to go on forever, thousands of deer covering the arctic plains. Harder to spot were the wolves, which watched from the trees of the taiga with glinting eyes, or the snowy owls who hooted in protest to the noise of chuffing steam that interrupted their evening hunts. Rusty never imagined so much wildlife could live in such a bare, cold place.

                 Finally, off in the distance, there appeared a yellow glow separate from the Aurora Borealis still dancing above. It was like a great ocean liner floating in a sea of ice, the beckoning of artificial lights looming out of the darkness of the North Pole drawing the train closer and closer. The rails rose out of the snow and onto a snaking arched viaduct of brick, slowing the train before they entered the gleaming city.

                 The first thing Rusty noticed was how hilariously small all of the buildings were. As a locomotive, he was used to towering over human structures, but these were even smaller than normal buildings. Then he saw the obvious denizens of the buildings and realized why. Hundreds of elves came to run alongside the train, cavorting and cartwheeling as they all headed for the city center. Rusty worried that one might stumble onto the tracks, in front of the train now inching their way forward, but the elves were apparently much better at drunkenly reveling than they let on.

                 At last, the tracks came to an end at the edge of an enormous city square that was dominated by a towering decorated Christmas. Rusty hissed to a stop, still feeling excited and full of energy despite the marathon run he had just completed. There was no room to be tired in the face of so much magic.

                 Lines of children formed beside the train, lead by the stern conductor who marched them towards the giant Christmas tree. With all of the passengers offloaded, the train was able to transform to their mech forms once more.

                 “This place is amazing!” Rusty exclaimed once he had a mouth again, looking around in pure wonder and amazement. “Is this the real North Pole?”

                 “Of course.” Noel stood tall and removed their helmet, revealing a handsome androgynous face with dark streaks of makeup. “What do you think?”

                 “It’s incredible.” Rusty couldn’t come up with the words to describe the wonders he was seeing. “I can’t believe it really exists.”

                 “It’s as real as my coaches and I.” Noel reassured, shifting aside so that Rusty could see the three figures standing behind them. “Here, you should meet my evergreens. Noble is my toy car, Conifer is my chair car, and Silver is my observation car.”

                 Each car gave a wave at their name, smiling genteelly at Rusty. The three all wore variations on the same smart teal and red uniform, trimmed with white fur that made them look cozy and warm.

                 “Weren’t there more of you?” Rusty asked with some confusion as he looked between the coaches. He was sure that there had been a long, magnificent passenger train waiting in front of his shed, with at least ten cars. Certainly more than three.

                 The coaches laughed, though not unkindly.

                 “The Polar Express always has exactly as many coaches as it needs, no more, no less.” Conifer attempted to explain. “There are enough seats for every child on our pickup list, but if you walk through the inside, you will only see the baggage car, your own coach, and the observation car. So really, there are only three cars. It just sometimes looks like many more.”

                 “Thank goodness, I don’t think we could handle a whole train of you.” Silver muttered, making Conifer elbow her in response to the jibe.

                 “That’s. Confusing.” Rusty said with a frown, head starting to hurt if he thought about it too hard.

                 “Well, that’s Christmas Magic for you.” Noble nodded as though that settled it. “You were lovely, by the way. We all thought Noel was crazy for wanting to pick up another engine, but you did a wonderful job.” She reached out and shook Rusty’s hand. “Thank you.”

                 “Yes, thank you.” The other two coaches chorused.

                 “Alright, come on now.” Noel grabbed Rusty’s shoulders and gently turned the awestruck steamer around. “It’s almost time for the Big Man to arrive.”

                 “Santa?” Rusty’s voice came out as a quiet gasp as he allowed himself to be pushed closer to the action. The elves easily parted around their wheels, careful to leave the much larger mechanical beings plenty of space.

                 “Who else? This _is_ the North Pole.” Noel sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground, the coaches following their lead behind them and Rusty sitting down alongside a moment after. Their great height allowed them to tower over the elves even seated.

                 On the raised platform in the center of the square, a group of reindeer were led out in lines to be secured in bell-lined traces for Santa’s sleigh. The beasts were so excited that as they jumped and leapt their hooves pounded on only air. The bells on their traces chimed out endlessly in response, and the sound was possibly the most lovely thing Rusty had ever heard.

                 Anticipation filled the crowd, excited muttering creating a low buzz through the hundreds gathered in the town square. On the huge building at the end of the square, the main set of doors flew open to reveal a broad figure silhouetted in light. The crowd went nuts, cheering and climbing on each other’s shoulders to try and get a better view of the show. Behind them, the trainfolk had an unobstructed view as Santa Claus, in his signature red suit trimmed with snow white fur, stepped down to address the group of human children who had made the train ride all the way north.

                 “He’s about to award the First Gift of Christmas.” Noel whispered to Rusty. The two watched as Santa took one of the kids aside, though Rusty found that the faces and clothes of all the children seemed to change the longer he looked.

                 The crowds were quiet and respectful as Santa took the time to speak to each child waiting in line, never seeming impatient or hurried. Finally, he stood in front of the trainfolk. Though he had to look a long way up to meet the eyes of the rolling stock, Santa somehow never lost his commanding presence.

                   “Hello, Rusty. I hear from Noel that you were a great help to me tonight.” Though Santa did not yell, his voice still carried across the whole square.

                 Rusty glanced at Noel, who just winked, before looking back at Santa. Belatedly, Rusty realized the man was waiting for a response. “Oh, uh. Yes sir. I was having a bad night, and Noel asked me to join their train.”

                 “And why was your Christmas Eve so bad?” Santa asked with infinite patience and kindness.

                 “Well, I was buried in an avalanche yesterday. So I was very sick, and my girlfriend and all my other friends went to a party and I was all alone.” Rusty recounted faithfully. It all seemed a bit trivial now, and surrounded by all the splendor now Rusty couldn’t quite recall the sheer misery he had felt only a few hours previous.

                 “That does sound sad.” Santa nodded in response. “But I know that you have wonderful friends that care for you endlessly.” The man’s words brought up the image of Pearl sitting as his bedside, feeding him crushed coal and water while Rusty was too feverous to feed himself. “Is there anything you want for Christmas?”

                 “Just to spend time with my friends.” Rusty couldn’t think of anything else he truly wanted.

                 “I see. Well, I shall do my best to grant that.” Time seemed to speed up again as Santa smiled, then made his way towards the sleigh and reindeer waiting for him. Climbing aboard the sleigh piled high with presents, the reindeer rose higher and higher into the sky. The sleigh circled overhead, before the great clock above the town square finally chimed midnight and Santa disappeared with a flash of light.

                 “Well?” Noel said after a moment, looking as a shell-struck Rusty with amusement. “Is your Christmas going any better now?”

                 “This-“ Rusty began, trying to compose a thought in his suddenly blank mind. “Is the best Christmas ever.”

                 “Good, I’m glad.” Noel rose to their wheels, then reached down to pull Rusty up as well. “Now, we have a lot of children who need to go home. Will you lead me again?”

                 “I- yes. Of course.” Rusty led the way back to the tracks, where the train assembled themselves in order once more and transformed. The Conductor herded the groups of children back aboard, then the train pulled out to make the journey back south.

 

 

 

 

 

                Once more flying through time zones and across countries, Rusty was surprised and a little sad when he found himself in front of his humble shed at the Apollo-Victoria yard once more. All of the children had been returned safely to their homes, so this was the last drop-off for the train to make.

                 The trainfolk all changed so they could hug and say goodbye, Rusty finding himself with tears in his eyes as he thanked them for bringing him along on their journey.

                 “Never doubt yourself, Rusty.” Noel advised as they wrapped enormous arms around the smaller steamer. “You can go far in life with your confidence, and I look forward to seeing what you manage next.”

                 Noble and Conifer said their goodbyes too, then Silver stepped forward with something in hand.

                 “Here,” Silver held up a pair of beautiful bells, each hung on a red ribbon. Rusty bowed his head so that one could be draped around his neck, then took the other and tucked it in a compartment on his hip with a curious look.

                 “One for you, and one for your observation car girl.” Silver explained with a wink.

                 Then train arranged themselves on the tracks once more and prepared to head out. Noel’s huge drivers turned, steam billowing out in great plumes, then with one last mighty whistle the train vanished.

                 Feeling absolutely exhausted all of a sudden, Rusty stumbled into his shed and passed out on his berth.

 

 

 

 

 

                “Rusty. Ruuusty.”

                 A hand gently shook Rusty’s shoulder, and slowly the steamer stirred.

                 “Hnn, Noel?” Rusty opened his eyes and blinked the sleep away, slightly confused when he was greeted by a sea of pink instead of the usual view of his shed. “Oh, Pearl!”

                 “Merry Christmas!” Pearl planted a kiss on Rusty’s lips, then stepped back to reveal that the humble shed was full of trainfolk. “I felt so bad leaving you here all alone last night, we decided to move a some of the party in here so you could enjoy it too!”

                 “Merry Christmas, squirt!” A more-than-slightly drunk Greaseball shoved a can of high grade Rusty’s way.

                 “Uh, thanks?” Rusty accepted the drink and took a cautious sip. The liquid burned a bit on the way down, but Rusty managed to swallow without coughing.

                 “Are you feeling any better?” Dinah came over to ask, offering her own gift of sweet oil treats. “Pearl said you were absolutely miserable last night.”

                 Rusty shifted experimentally, sitting up and pulling the covers back. He felt sore and tired but not as though he was dying, so it was a significant improvement. “I don’t feel too bad, actually. I had a really weird dream last night, though.”

                 As he moved, a bell chimed and Rusty looked down to see a bell on a red ribbon hanging around his neck.

                 “Oh, Rusty, where’d you get that?” Pearl looked at the bell curiously, “It looks like real silver.”

                 “Well. It’s a long story.” Rusty reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a length of soft red ribbon. “But I have one for you too.”

                 “It’s beautiful! I love it!” Pearl gasped in delight and hung the bell about her neck, then gifted Rusty with another kiss.

                 The tender moment between the two was broken when Electra drunkenly stumbled between the two to push a framed photo of himself into Rusty’s lap with a slurred “Merry Christmas, steam train!”

                 Rusty only laughed. Later, he would tell Pearl about his adventure. For now, he was just going to enjoy being with his friends. As strange as they were.

 

_It's a magic carpet on a rail that never takes a rest_

_Flying through the mountains and the snow_

_You can ride for free and join the fun_  
_If you just say yes!_  
_Cause that’s the way things happen_  
_On the Polar Express_

 


End file.
